The Art of hearing Heartbeats
by WeirdMe
Summary: So terrible to love something death can touch. One shot. Normal.


_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

.. . *. .* …

"You're gone." She whispers.

"I'm right here." He responds.

She turns away. "You aren't here," she looks back and taps his temple. Curly blonde locks brushing her fingers. "Right here."

He grabs her fingers and presses them to his lips.

.. .*.. .*..

_The heart is a muscle. It cannot be punctured, and it should not bleed or break._

.. . *. *..

Paint a picture. The fire is blazing in a dark living room. The only light seen, and two lovers laying on the plush, fancy maroon rug. The air is bitter cold winter, the kind that freezes the skin and dries the lips. All alone they are, with bread and butter on a table nearby for snacks. Sweaters and blankets all around, and sweet Christmas music as the end of December comes closer and closer. But alas, so does the end of today.

"It's the last night. Relax, please, for me," she asks and begs.

.. *. .* ..

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

..*.* .. . .

"I'm sorry." He fingers her apple curls. Wrapping the hair around his fingers again and again and again.

.. .*. .*.

_The heart should not be ripped or torn._

. *. .*..

She lays down and pulls him with her. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, hair brushing against hair. And hands held. "One last night. What shall we do with it?" She whispers.

"Well," A crooked smile taking place, "we defiantly should sleep." And he rolls onto her, straddling her hips, "_All_ night long." And peppers kisses along her throat.

She laughs. "I'll miss you. A lot you know."

He rolls off her and groans. "Talking about leaving and that gooey shit is such a mood killer."

She brushes her fingers again his cheekbone, "You can't ignore it."

.. .* .* ..

_Or shot._

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Bang._

.. * . .. *.

"I can try," he mumbles with his hands covering his face.

She turns and looks at him. Her hair spread out on the rug like water flowing through the cracks of cement. "What are we doing with our lives?" She pauses and thinks, "Death and guns and yelling? Most people are age are out partying not worrying about a war in another country that . . . will have to go back to."

It's him this time that strokes her face. "It will be alright. I promise," his gold eyes staring and sure. They say when you stare into the sun too long, you will become blind, but in some cases, maybe you want to. His eyes were the sun after all.

"I'm so scared Jace."

.. .*..* . . .

_Breathe . . . Breathe . . . Breathe . . ._

_Thump . . . Thump . . . Thump . . ._

.* ..* .

"Shh, relax, come here." And he pulls her into his arms. Her hair brushing his chin, and her face in his shoulder.

. .*… * .

_Breathe . . . . . . Breathe . . . . . . Breathe . . . . . ._

_Thump . . . . . . Thump . . . . . . Thump . . . . . . _

… * . .* . . .

"My friend Isabella is a year older than me and has a tramp stamp who drinks like every hour."

"She's going to regret that when she's old and wrinkly."

"I'm serious Jace."

"So am I."

"Jace, back to the point. I have never been drunk or hangover before. I'm twenty-three."

"You don't want to be, you feel like shit."

"I'm getting older Jace."

"Twenty-three is not old."

"Easy for you to say. You're twenty-two."

"A year younger. Man, so young, I still crap my pants."

She laughs and kisses his cheek. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, I got that effect on older women."

"Shut up and tell me you love me too."

"I love you too, _mom_."

Her green eyes sparkle again, he smiles because that was exactly what he wanted to make her do.

"Now, go do the dishes, _son_."

"This is some serious messed up role playing from the things I want to do to you right now." He turns her over and whispers in her ear. "Right on this rug."

She giggles. "Really? I don't think I understand."

He smiles lazily. "I can show you instead."

She laughs and he kisses her and the night goes on and life goes on. And time goes on as well. And time moves and changes, so does the night. No longer becoming night, but day. And everything comes back to haunt.

. .. * … * ..

Night disappears, as they knew it would. Goodbye at an airport, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

"Goodbye Jace."

He presses his fingers to her lips. "We aren't saying goodbye."

"It sure feels like it."

He takes her face in his hands. "I'm going to see you again." He brushes his lips against her cheek. "I will kiss you again." He kisses her lips. "I will have you yell at me again." He kisses her fingers. "And when you get back, I'll marry you."

A tiny smile upon her face. The smile disappears. "Jace, this is a war I'm reentering."

.. .* .* ..

_Breathe . . . . . . . . . Breathe . . . . . . . . . Breathe . . . . . . . . . _

_Thump . . . . . . . . . Thump . . . . . . . . . . Thump . . . . . . . . ._

.* ..* . ..

"You are going to come back."

"How do you know?"

"I have six sense, I know when I'm going to lose someone." He kisses her hard, the kind that buzzes the mind and frenzies the heart. Leaving butterflies with something roaring in their stomachs'. "Now go, before you miss your plane."

.. .*..* .

_. . . . . . . . ._

_And the heart will stop. Because hearts weren't meant to break or bleed or be torn. But did you expect something else?_

. . *.. .*. .

Then you hear the heart stop. And he heard her heart stop.

**Author's Note: When I first started writing this, I just knew I wanted a simply, short story about Jace and Clary, about their last night, and then someone going off to war. Most stories, it was the boy off to war, so I switched it, and then I saw this book title in Target. It was called, "The Art of hearing Heartbeats." And this story was made. This title which inspired the rest of this. Thanks for reading, and I hoped you enjoyed it. I mean, do you wish that you knew when the last moment is? Has anyone ever in your life held you a little longer than necessary? Happy 2013, goodbye 2012!**


End file.
